Bound to the Highlander(67)
“My lady? Are you unwell? I must admit, your betrothed appears in good spirits. He practically picked me off the ground when I met him in the hallway. He said something about taking extra care of you.”
Aileana swallowed hard. “We’re getting married.”
Gwen’s brow knit. “Well I’m pleased to hear he’s changed his mind with his daft idea to break the betrothal.”
Aileana moved toward Gwen and grasped her shoulders with her small hands. The woman didn’t understand. “Gawain was never apprehended. He’s not in the castle dungeon with the rest. He’s out there somewhere likely plotting against us again and I didn’t know. How could we not know?”
Aileana released Gwen and paced.
A chill swept through her. The man had been bent on destroying them and she was not convinced he was finished with them. Marrying James was the right thing to do, she believed it, but would any event in her life ever come without some extenuating circumstance? What a turn of events. James MacIntosh was to become her savior—from Gawain. Uncle Iain must have always known it. He had tried to secure her future and keep her safe all along. As much as she was still angry with James for mistrusting her, she never doubted her safety when he was near.
“We marry tomorrow.”
Gwen clasped her hands together and laughed. “The MacIntosh isn’t going to let anything happen to you and nothing is going to happen to him. Marrying him is the single best thing you can do to ensure your safety.”
Gwen’s confidence eased Aileana’s anxiety, enough to let her words sink in.
“By this time tomorrow, we’ll be married.”
“And this is bad?”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Neither did Gawain, but that never bothered you.”
She stopped and stared at her maid. Gwen was right. She’d spent so much time worrying over what James MacIntosh thought of her and never stopped for a moment to wonder why. Clarity tumbled over her like a cart of cabbages. She was in love with him! Dear God in heaven how could that have happened while she was cursing his every breath?
“I’m marrying him.”
Gwen laughed. “Yes, my friend, I believe you are.”
The thought brought a nervous smile to her face. Thoughts of Gawain could be pushed to the back of her mind when she pictured James.
Gwen’s face lit with a sudden thought. “You must promise me something. You must promise not to think of Gawain any more until after your wedding night. If you let your fear of him overshadow what you and Lord MacIntosh share, he will win. Don’t let it happen, my lady. Don’t let him take away your wedding night. Promise me you won’t.”
Aileana was amazed at how well Gwen put the situation into perspective. Here at the king’s palace, there was no way for Gawain to reach her. Gwen was right again. She did no justice to herself or James by focusing on her fear.
“Of course you are right. I shall think only of wedding James.”
“And bedding him,” Gwen said. Aileana grinned. Gwen always had a way to lighten the mood.
A knock on the door prompted a quizzical glance between them before Gwen rose to answer it.
“I beg your pardon ladies, but I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?”
Aileana stood at the queen’s first word. “Of course, Your Majesty, please do come in. This is, after all, your home.”
The queen entered and gathered Aileana’s hands in hers.
“I’ve just heard the news. I came to offer anything I have to you. I understand you’ve just reached this decision?”
Aileana nodded.
“I imagine you did not bring wedding clothes with you?”
Oh no! She hadn’t thought of that.
“Well, it’s a good thing I came. Ladies come with me. My seamstress is the best in all of Scotland and we’ll prepare a gown fit for, well, a queen.”
They followed the queen through the palace, along several corridors until they arrived at a warm room with heavy tapestries covering all the walls. It was welcoming. A slight, young woman busied herself inside with several reams of unrolled fabric.
“This is where my personal dressmaker works. Ladies, this is Abigayle. She’s a miracle worker, trust me.” The queen turned to Abigayle who had just lifted the corner of an exquisite piece of vermillion brocade. She dropped the fabric and bowed deep.
“Abigayle, would you please create a masterpiece for this lady? If there’s anything you need, I will have the pages scour Edinburgh for it. Now, I must go and pass along our regrets for dinner and arrange it for here instead. I’m sure our men will understand we have more important matters to attend.”
The queen left and Abigayle set to work, employing Gwen as well, asking the size of this and the length of that. By the time Queen Joan returned with a gaggle of servants carrying platters of food and pitchers of drink, Abigayle had already marked out the panels for the skirt.